


Boom Boom Boom Boom (I want to go Boom Boom)

by griffle



Series: Batman: The Drunk and the Done [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce is Drunk and Done, Bruce is done, Clark and Diana are regretting, Conner has regrets, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Creepy Ra's al Ghul, Damian is in love, Drunkenness, Explosions, Hal is terrified, Humor, Mentions of Sex Toys, Other, Tim is making a point, Tim is so fucking done, Translation Available, im so tired, mentions of kinks, older!Damian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24222583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griffle/pseuds/griffle
Summary: This wasn't going well.Clark and Diana were regretting taking this on.For one: they had greatly misjudged what Bruce had said about Damian’s crush.This was not a scrapbook.This was not a scrapbook.
Relationships: Damian Wayne/Tim Drake (mentioned), Diana (Wonder Woman) & Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Lois Lane/Clark Kent (mentioned), Ra's al Ghul/Tim Drake (mentioned), Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent
Series: Batman: The Drunk and the Done [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761643
Comments: 15
Kudos: 616





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I just couldn't leave this hanging. 
> 
> Also, I wrote this again on my insomnia marathon of hell. So I'm gonna be randomly editing things here and there because I'm trash. *chuckles to himself, dead inside* I miss the siren song of sleep. They have forsaken me. 
> 
> I feel? like this is self-contained enough that you don't have to read the other, but, if you're a little confused, here's the link;
> 
> [ **Going Up, on a Tuesday** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24118678)

When Clark asked a favor, usually it was more "world is being destroyed" favor. "Alien invasion" favor. "Can you experiment with Kryptonite I have a Parent Teacher meeting because of Jon Shenanigans" favor. Conner looked over at Clark again. 

"You want me to find Tim," he repeated slowly. "And give him a 'bad touch' talk."

"Not- no." Clark made a face. It was a pained face. "I just...learned...some interesting…" his mouth moved for a bit, no words coming forth. Conner was fascinated. 

"Can you check on Tim, please?" Clark begged. Conner kept staring at his...whatever-you-want-to-call-sharing-DNA-but-little-anything-else. Clark didn't beg. Superman doesn't _beg_. 

Clark definitely was giving Conner a begging look. 

"...Sure, I'm going to go find him," Conner said slowly. "But, more to the point that he's my best friend and not because you asked." And with that, he flew out of sight.

Clark sighed. He had originally wanted to go after Tim himself, but as soon as he mentioned splitting up to Diana, she had put her foot down. 

"Damian Wayne is the blood son of Bruce Wayne, and half of his issues as well," she said, blue eyes locking with Clark's. "I _certainly_ am not dealing with that by myself." 

Clark agreed. Sometimes he wanted to brain Bruce just for him to stop the dramatic gothic bullshit that he does. Lord knows he's been honest with Jon, who had been terrified at the admission. Sure, they're best friends, Bros, but- it's Batman. Everyone wants to brain Batman at least _once_.

And now, they were heading over to meet Batman 2.0 at the Titans Tower to try and convince him that marrying your brother (even if apparently you aren't legally brothers or blood related) is A Very Bad Idea. Diana packed her favorite sword and strongest shield. Clark readied his Serious Business™ for Humans Medkit. 

Oh _Rao._

* * *

"Hey." 

Tim said nothing, still fiddling with...some sort of weird machine-laptop-thing. Kon gave The hideout that Tim had squirreled away a look over. The hideout wasn't as bad as some of Tim's other safehouses or hideouts, but that wasn't saying much. It just meant that it had decent wifi and no mold growing on the ceiling like some of the places Tim decided to hole in. 

However, _Tim_ had seen better days. He was wearing what looked to be a nearly completely destroyed Red Robin uniform, mixed with military desert fatigues, sand, and some other liquids that Kon wasn't going to ask. He obviously haven't showered in a while, and he had his "Murder Twitch™" vein pulsing which. 

Didn't bode well. _Yikes_.

"Whatcha doing?" He asked, still hovering but putting his hands in his pockets, aiming for casual. He tried to ignore the sweat forming on his forehead. 

Tim grunted, pressed a button, and off in the distance, there was a faint explosion.

 _"Cleaning,"_ Tim hissed. 

"What happened?" Kon asked, immediately dropping the flimsy illusion of "yeah just chilling" because _What?_ Seriously, what the _hell_ happened? Kon was busy with Titans and Kansas for like, _a second,_ and all of a sudden his best friend is on a murder spree? Tim was temperamental, but this was a different level. 

Tim sighed, or, well, hissed, really. Conner waited, settling next to Red Robin. "Talk to me," Kon said. Tim just glared at the laptop machine. "Why are you here?" 

Kon shrugged, looking out into the desert. "Clark was concerned for you, and wanted to give you some version of the 'bad touch'' speech." He snorted. "I'm bypassing all that because I have no fucking clue what's going on for you to warrant that type of torture." Finally, a smile cracked on his best friend's face. "That bad, huh?" Tim asked. Kon nodded before shuddering. 

"The fact that Clark said the words "swimsuit parts" is going to haunt me for the rest of my life," he said solemnly. It also made him wait till he was in space before he could howl with laughter. Tim gave a huff of laughter, falling silent. It took several explosions before Tim even spoke again. 

"Do I have a curse?"

"Huh?"

"With Al Ghul bloodline. Nearly any of them who meet me either wants to fuck me, kill me, or usually do both." Tim sighed. Some more explosions. "Damian wants to marry me.” 

_Oh._

"Oh?"

"Also Ra's al Ghul gave me this." A phone was shoved in his face. Kon took it, carefully looking at the picture before turning his head to Tim.

"It's made of platinum. Premium grade. And diamonds embedded in the metal. Super expensive."

Conner nodded, looking back at the photo of the chastity cage nestled in the gift box. "What the fuck, Tim."

Tim groaned. "I know!"

"What, the fuck, Tim." 

"I know!"

 _"Tim,_ what the _fuck."_

"Swipe to the next." 

The butt plug looked like a piece of art and expensive, and the lingerie was obviously high end, although dark green was definitely not Tim’s color. 

“And you know what else?” Tim bit out. Kon winced. “The lingerie fits perfectly?” he asked. 

_“The lingerie fits perfectly,”_ Tim hissed, emphasizing his point with a jab of a button, and an explosion. Super faint, almost like…

“What _are_ you exploding?” Kon asked. He’d been curious, of course, but one does not simply ask Tim Drake what he was blowing up. Walking into Mordor would be easier. And less likely to be injured. 

Tim grunted. "Ra’s Al _Motherfucking_ Ghul bases,” he said. “I re-worked a backdoor to their network the last time I was kidnapped there. I don’t think he’s aware, which, _pity,"_ Tim’s smile was pure Murder. It was terrifying. “For a centuries old man, it’s _pathetic_ that he’s letting ‘a nothing’ destroy his empire.” Kon frowned. “You’re not a nothing, though,” he insisted, even when Tim rolled his eyes and went: “Kon. Please.” Which were _lies_ because it wasn't _true._

“You’re not ‘a nothing,’ though,” Kon said. “You’re _Robin_. You’re _the_ Robin. You’re also Red Robin, and Tim “I-eat-other-CEOs-for-breakfast” Drake, and Nightwing’s little brother, and my best friend and I’m sure many other things as well,” Kon nudged shoulders. “You’re something, Tim Drake.” That seemed to calm down the other man, until:

“At least tell me why the fuck Damian shoved a dowry in my face and practically demanded that I propose to him!” Tim threw up his arms. “I mean, I kind of get Ra’s- don’t give me that look- we have this weird nemesis cat-and-mouse thing going on. Is he old? Yes. Is he evil? Yes. Is he being creepy? Yes. Is he overstepping boundaries? Yes. Do I hate having centuries old Assassin leaders perving on me? Yes. But that makes _sense._ ” Tim kept jabbing buttons. “Dick has Deathstroke. Jason has the Black Mask. Damian has...I have no fucking idea, _himself?_ Batman has either Waller or Joker, and both of those options are horrible. I’m pretty sure Waller is back with CADMUS and cloning Batman, and, seriously, Joker is starting to up the ante on the sexual side of traps and I don’t know if it’s because he’s sexually frustrated or it’s like Steph feared and the Joker actually has a hard-on for Batman. What were we talking about?” 

“Damian finally admitted his feelings for you after all these years,” Kon said. Tim nodded. “Yeah that, D- _years?_ ” His head whipped around. “What the fuck do you mean years?” Kon blinked. Tim blinked. Both looked at each other.

“...Dude, Damian has been crushing you since he was fourteen. Like. Majorly. _Super-Majorly._ And yes, I'm using that in a sentence correctly." Kon paused, thinking back. “I’m pretty sure he has a stalker scrapbook like you had on Batman and Robin when you were a kid.”

“Okay, One: Those were albums and _evidence_. Two: What the fuck, Kon.” 

“One: Yeah, _sure_ Jan. Two: Uh, I have super-hearing and can hear heartbeats? And his heartbeat, whenever you would be around, sounded like a Benny Goodman drumline.” Also he tried to kill Kon several times, especially after that one Christmas where Tim and him got caught under the mistletoe. 

“Benny Good- since when the _hell_ are you into swing music?”

“Jon’s going through a phase and we’re trying to bond. He’s trying swing dancing and photoshop. Truthfully, he’s better at swing than photoshop, and he’s not that good with swing dancing yet.” Silence. Kon watched as Tim's brain did...something, it was obviously whirring like crazy, before the man got up, cracking his back. 

“I don’t think randomly making bases explode is getting my message across.” He motioned over to a corner of the hideout. “Come on. I wanna make _a point."_

“Why?” Kon asked, wary, because Tim making _points_ usually equals a manic Bart and Tim, and him just being grateful to be alive. And then Tim smiled at him, and Kon? Kon swore he finally saw what Jamie kept saying that Tim's smile gave him nightmares. Kon was starting to feel the Regrets™ 

This wouldn't go well. 

* * *

This wasn't going well. 

Clark and Diana were regretting taking this on. 

For one: they had _greatly_ misjudged what Bruce had said about Damian’s crush. 

Also: this was breaking his brain. Probably Diana's too. 

“And that is why I am obviously the best suited for this role,” concluded Damian, the point stick collapsing with a quiet “click.” "The packet will help any questions you may have about my presentation." He motioned to the booklets in front of Diana and Clark, nicely bound, with a nice font. 

This was not a scrapbook. _This was not a scrapbook._

Maybe there was a scrapbook, somewhere, but Diana and Clark did not get the scrapbook with the tasteful stickers and the hearts. Diana and Clark got a goddamn _business presentation_ about why Damian and Tim should marry and the financial, physical, and emotional benefits it would bring to both the Wayne Family _and_ the Justice League. There were graphs. There were spreadsheets. There were PowerPoints transitions. Someone had crudely photoshopped Tim’s and Damian’s faces over two porn stars _in flagrante delicito,_ with a familiar-looking red 'S' in the background and oh Rao, did _Jon_ help Damian with this? 

Clark wanted to cry. He wanted to go back to Bruce upset about not being a vet because “I can’t watch puppies cry” and Diana and Clark patting his head. He wanted a drink. This was not a crush. 

A crush may have had a scrapbook. A crush had someone blushing and being nervous and sweaty with their heart going like a Benny Goodman drumline. A crush did not have charts and business deals and badly-photoshopped bodies. A crush didn’t have _a corporate-style takeover plan what the ever loving fuck Bruce, parent your children_ _better._

A glance over at Diana and he saw that she probably had the same idea as him. 

They were Not Equipped For This. He didn't know how to parent business presentations. He really didn't know how the hell he was going to bring up to Lois that their son may be helping create terrible photoshop porn for other people's benefit and _this._

This was _beyond_ crush. Past the _stratosphere._

God, Clark wished there was an emergency right now. 

The emergency alarm blared. Diana looked at Clark, annoyance, and relief, warring on her face. "It wasn't me," he said, "I swear. Honest."

Damian was already at the computer, bringing up a screen and it's. 

Well, it looked like a video feed of Apokolips. Except there's certain Middle Eastern flora in the background in between the chaos at the forefront. 

There were clouds of ash and fire, loud explosions, random ninjas (assassins?) screaming and running off into the horizon in the background. In the foreground however, was a familiar face. A _very_ familiar face. 

Clark had laughed, internally, when Bruce had muttered his concerns about Tim Drake. The boy was so loyal to Bruce, to Batman, that he had chalked it up to Bruce being the paranoid drama queen that he is.

Now, he saw what Bruce was seeing. Dear _Rao_ , that smile could make Zod shiver. 

Tim was speaking, his voice very pointed and clear, which was surprising given the amount of chaos reigning behind him, which- did he do that? Did he do all of that? Clark knew Tim was smart, and maybe more vigilante than hero, to put it politely, but- wait, Tim just said Ra's al Ghul's name, now this made sense. 

Well, obviously Clark didn't need to get involved with Tim. Tim could handle himself just fine. He just wished he could understand what Tim was saying, as apparently Tim could speak fluent Arabic, which, what? 

"He said something like, 'you can take my spleen but you can't take my balls or my freedom?' Is Timothy missing a spleen?" Diana looked over his way, and he could only shrug helplessly. The Bats, and anything outside the Justice League, he learned to stay a wide berth around. Mostly because Bruce could play fast and loose with the green Kryptonite. 

A large, strange creature floated up behind Tim.

He recognized the people shouting "monster" which, in his opinion, the creature didn't look like a monster and more like Kon in a weird bird-costume. 

...Oh, it _was_ Kon in a bird costume- he recognized that costume from last year's Halloween. _Great._

This was _not_ what Clark wanted when he asked that favor from Kon. 

"Now he's saying something along the lines of cyber warfare and destroying safe houses until Ra's al Ghul stops," Diana translated, frowning. "He's also saying he'll make his devil-bird...bring down justice, I'm sorry Clark it's very metaphorical and allegorical. I'm not really sure what exactly he is talking about." Clark smiled at the apologetic Diana, trying to ignore Tim's maniacal cackling in the background. "Diana, that's fine. Also, I think we've overstayed our welcome." Diana glanced over at Damian, grimacing. 

Cause Damian.

 _Damian_ was looking at Tim like he hung the moon, stars, sun and everything in between. He was murmuring something that sounded like a prayer, except judging by Diana's horrified reaction, it was probably something _way_ more adult. 

Damian adjusted himself and _nope, nope_ , Clark's done, they're _done_ , it didn't work, they fucked up _more_ , Clark is going to bribe Bruce with alcohol and apologies and maybe Bruce will only kill him a little. 

Diana looked at Clark. Clark looked at Diana. 

They did enough damage for today.

They both rushed out of the Titans Tower. 

* * *

See. Here's the thing.

Hal's a good guy. Not perfect, but a good guy. He recycles. He saves the galaxy. He's a team player.

But, the thing is, Hal and Batman? Not buddies. He's tried to get Batman to open up, to be at least a bit more _civil_ , but no dice. At best, they were team members, you know, the type that came together for the 'End-of-the-World' type of stuff but only that. But _then_ , Hal heard about how Bruce made Barry stand guard for hours after threatening to remove his dick ("I _like_ my dick, Hal, I don't want it gone, and he's fucking _Batman_. He could do that. Because he's Batman.") and. Bruce crossed a line. Because team members don't threaten other team members with dick-removal. And made other people clean up their random little ragers in other dimension board rooms that apparently only included Clark and Diana and just. Hal thought they were passed this "Trinity" bullshit, _ok?_ Apparently not. 

So instead of enjoying his day off and relaxing, he's out in Gotham looking for Batman because _this time?_ Bruce has gone too far. And Barry? Sure, he may have threatened once _(once)_ to disembowel the guy, but not to his face! Bruce had finally crossed the line, especially since the leftover bottles were mostly of the high-grade, top-tier alcohol variety. Maybe _other_ members wanted to party as well. _Fucker._

Hal squinted through the Gotham smog, trying to find- ah, there he was. Perching on a rooftop, looking so dramatic and artful against the Hellscape of Gotham (Seriously, who's idea was to build on a swamp in _New Jersey?_ ) And even better- his back was turned. Score one for Hal Jordan. 

Hal drifted in, reading his epic one-liner. Sure, he may get accidentally stabbed or hit with a batarang but-

"Look, we can even use my own Justice League- I'm seriously worried, B!"

Hal paused, still behind the man, unseen. Wait a minute. 

B would mean Batman or…

Now that he looked carefully, the shoulders weren't as broad, and the voice was different, and he didn't know Bruce to fidget with his fingers or use a cell phone when he was out playing a funky bat-dude-man. 

Hal leaned closer. 

"B, we really need to tell them." That wasn't Bruce's voice. Who was in the Batsuit? 

"You don't know what Ra's al Ghul finally- I'm just trying to say, he may finally get connected with any intergalactic assassin leagues." Silence. "B, there's a giant satellite orbiting the earth. Aliens have invaded. If he doesn't know now, then he's a fool."

"No. B, I'm worried."

"What?"

"Yes I know about- yes I am aware. I'm not _blind_. You weren't the one who gave him the talk, B."

"Yes I saw the video? I- poetry? I think? And a portrait. Maybe a sonnet, but who the fuck knows anymore."

"Take a fucking guess, B."

"Yes I'm mad at you!" 

"I don't want to argue this. I just want to tell the Justice League about Ra's al Ghul in case he tries to kidnap Red Robin and impregnate him with alien technology. He's an centuries old Assassin Head with a lot of money, connections, and a very faint grasp on morals." Raised muffled voices. "No, I don't think he would make Red Robin be a grandmother- yes, I am aware he's a grandfather I'm not _dumb-_ it's kind of sexist that you would think that Tim would be forced to use- yes I've seen the gifts, have _you_ seen the gifts? Cause he fucking _escalated._ No, it's no longer the dresses or the sexy lingerie, B."

"A chastity device, B. A motherfucking _cock cage-_ He gave Red Robin a cock-cage butt plug ensemble- B, B, don't keep shouting, it's not going to solve anything…"

Hal backed away, slowly drifting out of hearing. 

You know, he thought, as he flew back (not flew or ran away that's _absurd_ ) Maybe he had been too hard on Bruce. Maybe he just needed to appreciate what he's done for the Justice League. Silver linings. And maybe he should have wondered why Bruce would drink at the Justice League, and _leave the evidence._

Maybe he should have wondered how a man became such a paranoid, emotionally stunted man. Cause like, Hal has worries, but they weren't "My son may get boy-pregnant by from strange alien technology by an Evil grandpa and gets sex gifts from said Evil Grandpa who may have a feminization kink" worries. 

Hal decided that on the next time the actual Batman was at a Justice League meeting, he would be on his damn best behavior and also keep his damn mouth shut. He may also slip the man the best alcohol a human could drink from this part of the galaxy. Made you nice and sleepy. Didn't damage the kidneys or the liver too much. Tasted amazing. 

Yeah. Batman needed that. 

* * *

Bruce collapsed back into the pillows, closing his eyes. He wondered why this was his life. He was grateful for Dick stepping in, because he still felt like a bunch of paper and broken glass, but he really didn't know about... _the_ _gifts_...and maybe it was time for the Justice League to interfere. He wouldn't usually with Bat stuff. But. He didn't know how to fully handle this. _Someone_ had to know how to handle this. 

Bruce wished he brought back the vodka. 

He sighed when he heard his bedroom doors open, hearing familiar footsteps. The clinking of glass. The shifting of suits and capes. He did not open his eyes. If he did not open his eyes, he could pretend everything was just a horrible, stress dream because of trauma or some shit like that. 

"Alfred let us in." 

Bruce didn’t move. “Hello Clark. Hello Diana.”

“Hi Bruce.” 

“Why are you here.”

He could hear Clark shifting. “Do you remember yesterday?”

“No. Why.”

“You got horribly drunk.”

“I see.”

“You told us why.”

“I see.”

“We tried to help.” More shifting. “We fucked up.” Yes, Clark. He was aware. He saw the video as well. He heard Damian sing Tim's praises. He was _very aware_. 

“I see.” Silence. “Diana is this true?”

“I’m so sorry Bruce.”

“Great.” 

"We brought the alcohol."

"And I promise I will gift you a new liver, Bruce." He opened his eyes just a sliver, to look at the uncomfortable faces of his two oldest (best) friends. 

"Thank you Clark. And thank you Diana, I'm sure I'm going to need that." He didn't even twitch when Clark passed him a huge bottle of fancy alcohol, merely opening up the top, bringing it up to his lips, and started chugging like he never chugged before.


	2. Drabble: Babs Finds Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gotham was weird, but this was still weird, even by Gotham's standards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to go in the "Drunk Drabbles" section but honestly, I think it works best here. 
> 
> The songs are "Glory Bound" by the Grass Roots and "Mama Mia" by ABBA. You'll see why

Gotham was weird. 

Perhaps it was due to the lingering effects of Joker toxin, Scarecrow poison, Ivy pollen that permeated everything. Perhaps it was due to the fact that instead of bringing back the death penalty, the city thought it was best for a man to go out prancing and hitting crazed super-lunatics. Perhaps it was the fact that it looked like a dystopian nightmare, even on a good day. Perhaps it was just the way it is, like Florida. 

Only Florida was more normal than Gotham, even with Florida Man. 

Maybe Barbara was being presumptuous- she was a true Gothamite, at heart. She was born and raised here, understanding the chaotic bullshit that is Gotham- it was home, after all. She was also a Bat, and a Gordon, and used to deal with Dick Grayson and Jason Todd on a regular basis which she always thought gave her weird bullshit meter a higher than average level. 

And yet. 

She stared, fascinated, _horrified_ , at the audio leaking out of her speakers. She just meant to do a quick listen in The Cave, a routine check. Everyone was a bit...jumpy. Damian and Bruce were arguing, which meant him running off to Kansas while Bruce brooded and benched Damian (because of course he couldn't _ground_ the boy), and recently, Bruce and Tim got into a _clusterfuck_ of an argument, except one of them scrambled the audio, so the _why_ was still a mystery, but the anger was radiating from Tim from the video feed was not. He looked like he somehow obtained the Pit Madness, and his first target was going to be Bruce and he was going to Enjoy It. Bruce looked ready to either snap or call it quits. Given that he immediately demanded Dick take over Tim's patrol and Damian's along with Dick's own, and that Tim was benched as well, she was siding on the former option.

Basically, she wasn't expecting what she heard. She was expecting silence, maybe the click-hiss of Damian in the cave. She wasn't really expecting to hear Damian. She wasn't expecting him to be absently singing, and not a song that's so fucking _happy_. 

_"It's five o clock in the morning, I'm waking up to a sky of gray…"_

_"Jesus,"_ she hissed. There was just something fundamentally wrong with this. However, switching over to the cameras feeds, proved to add to the horror, since then she saw Damian surrounded by pictures, paper, and glue. Things he was using as he made a scrapbook. A scrapbook of _Tim_. 

She watched as he lovingly placed a rather tasteful picture of just Tim's legs, still singing along, obviously not really paying attention. 

_"You make me feel, so close to heaven…"_

Shit, she couldn't ignore this anymore, could she? She had an inkling when Damian would sometimes glare at Tim, except it wasn't a murder-glare, it was an unknown-emotion-glare. When he would scowl at walls or off into the distance, looking mildly horrified. The secret sketchbook that had a passcode. Why Tim's undercover mission files would be accessed, and not for just relevant information. There were _pictures_ in those files. _Scandalous_ pictures. 

Perfect fodder for someone with a crush and the inability to do something about it. 

She should have caught on sooner. 

...Damian was singing along to Mama Mia currently. Still pasting photos.

There was a sticker book near his left elbow 

Barbara felt the beginnings of a headache, already starting to call the rest of the Bats because like fuck was she handling this herself. A quick glance through the Manor cameras showed that Bruce was currently passed out next to Wonder Woman and Superman, empty bottles scattered around them. Alfred was still out on his week-long vacation. 

She really, really hoped this could all be taken care of before Alfred got back. 

A search through the various databases at her fingertips showed that it was probably not going to be the case.

_"Mama Mia...here I go again…"_

Barbara Gordon, for the first time in a long time, started to pray. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain: Damian singing to cheesy seventies rock. Scrapbooks for Tim.  
> Me: The Grass Roots are amazing and aren't cheesy.  
> My brain: Sure, Jan.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all.  
> 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [砰砰砰砰（我想要炸掉一切）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27554347) by [hopeineverforget](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeineverforget/pseuds/hopeineverforget)




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